


Something We Create

by liketolaugh



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: M/M, One Shot Collection, Red String of Fate, Soulmate AU, but def not one coherent story, but soulmate AUs are just too fun okay, some of which may be connected
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: Destiny is not enough to make a relationship work; you need to help it along a little. A collection of Linkllen soulmate AUs.





	1. Red String of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in a world where soulmates are tied together by the red string of fate, which no one can see but the two the string is attached to.

“Break,” Allen groused, tugging harshly at the scarlet thread that trailed off into the distance. “C’mon, you stupid string! Break!”

There was a brief pause, and then there was a returning tug – too soft to be a reprimand. More like a question, Allen guessed. He scowled, slumping over grumpily on the edge of the bed, and pulled again – not as hard as before, but still irritably.

“Mm…” Mana’s yawn drew Allen’s attention to the other side of the room, and he frowned at the man’s stirring form, ignoring the answering pull at the base of his little finger. Mana rolled over to meet Allen’s eyes and smiled at him sleepily. “Morning, boy!”

“Morning,” Allen muttered, twisting the red thread absently between his fingers. He gave it another vicious yank, this time so the person on the other side couldn’t feel it, and scowled when nothing happened. “Stupid fucking piece of shit string.”

He didn’t know why he was so pissed at it, honestly. For a long time, it had been the only thing that even suggested that someone _might_ care about him. He was alone, not deaf – he’d heard people talk about their strings, invisible threads that tied soulmates together – that told you who would love you more than anyone. He knew what it was.

Allen had even followed his, once, before he’d met Mana, but it hadn’t led anywhere – not anywhere he could reach by himself, anyway. He’d starve to death first.

But it was just. _Soulmate._ Christ, what the fuck did they do to end up with _Red?_

Yank.

What did Red know about _loving someone?_

Yank.

This time he wasn’t careful enough, and apparently the person on the other side had had enough of the harsh pulling, because their answering tug, this time, was sharp and quick, and Allen reluctantly released his end, letting it relax between them.

“Allen.”

Mana’s chiding voice made him look up, scowling slightly, but the man was looking at him with clear eyes, and that was enough to make it fade – a good day, then. As he watched, Mana knelt in front of him and wrapped one hand around Allen’s, the thread falling through it without a trace, and gave him a gentle smile.

“Be nice,” Mana instructed quietly, keeping his eyes completely focused on Allen’s. “If you only ever treat one person kindly, Allen, it should be this one.” His smile, if possible, softened further. Allen scowled, because it was almost _sad,_ and it looked weird on Mana’s face. “You don’t want that thread to break… even if you think you do.”

“What do you know,” Allen grouched, kicking his feet at the ground. “Maybe I do want it to break!”

Mana laughed, light and amused. “You play with it every day,” he reminded Allen, as if he didn’t fucking know. “You’d miss it, wouldn’t you, Allen?”

Allen grumbled wordlessly, but he also took the thread again and wrapped it securely around his wrist, running the smooth, familiar material between his fingers.

“Whatever,” he muttered.

* * *

“Did they finally stop jerking your string?” Tokusa asked with interest, eyes on Link, who fiddled with the thread between his fingers, rubbing and stroking it almost compulsively.

Link nodded. “I think so,” he murmured, wrapping it around his index finger and then letting it unravel restlessly, worry at the forefront of his mind. “They seemed upset about something.”

“They’re always upset about something,” Tokusa dismissed, smirking at Link’s disapproving frown. “What? They do this all the time!”

“Not like _this,”_ Link protested, and then huffed lightly, letting the thread go.

It had been more vehement than usual, and had lasted longer- but also there was just _something about it_ that had rubbed Link the wrong way, something he wasn’t sure how to explain. So he didn’t.

“I hate to break it to you, Link, but your soulmate has anger issues,” Tewaku said cheerfully, distracting Link; she was, he noted with a smile, cheerful much more often now that they had a place to stay and food to eat. “And also, you’re a freak.”

Link’s smile vanished. “How?” he demanded, giving Tewaku a dismayed look.

“No one else communicates with their soulmate this much,” Madarao pointed out for Tewaku, a slight, dry smile on his face. Link had noticed that; he’d only seen any of them pull on a thread he couldn’t see maybe once or twice each, if that. “But you do it _every day._ Even when you’re busy.”

Link refrained from pouting, because Leverrier didn’t approve of petulance. “I like to,” he said defensively. “It’s fun.” It was amazing how much emotion could be conveyed through nothing but the strength and duration of the tension of the string. It wasn’t a conversation, but-

Was it really bad for Link to like to pretend he could talk to the person everyone said he’d someday love more than anything?

“It’s fun to pull a string back and forth,” Kiredori deadpanned.

Well, when you put it _that_ way.

“They started it,” Link offered weakly, knowing he was losing, losing terribly, and his friends were terrible people and never going to let him live in peace.

(He was glad to worry about things like that, was glad that Director Leverrier had taken them in and given them work to do and a roof over their heads, food to eat, a promise of a _future,_ a _purpose,_ something he could be proud of doing, of having done-)

Goushi patted him on the shoulder, not bothering to hide his small, rare smile, and told him, “If you’re getting along this well before you’ve even met, I’m sure you’ll have a fine time of it together.”

“He means you’re infatuated,” Tokusa informed him with rabid glee.

Link sulked. He was _not_ infatuated.

* * *

Years later, Link doesn’t notice that his red thread is growing shorter and shorter until he walks into the room where he’s meant to meet the suspect, presents him with his pie, and notices, suddenly, that there’s only a foot or so left – and the other end wraps around the pinky finger of Allen Walker.

And he thinks, _oh no._


	2. Empathic Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in a world where soulmates can sense each other's emotions.

_Silence,_ Link thought bitterly, _has absolutely no right to be this absurdly uncomfortable._

It was two weeks after his assignment to Allen Walker had begun, and it hadn’t gotten any better since the start, when he’d soul-bonded to the suspect he was meant to investigate and was immediately bombarded with a flood of what was easily identifiable as surprised distress.

A hollow ache pulsed in the back of his mind, unhappy and yearning, and he finally gave in and pressed the pen to the desk with a sigh. Without turning around, he asked, “Walker, why are you _lonely?_ I’m right here.”

Guilt cut briefly over the loneliness for a moment, but then it was gone, and the feeling only intensified and darkened.

“Sorry,” Walker said softly.

Link lifted his hand and rubbed his hand across his forehead, forcing himself to relax. “No, don’t be sorry,” he disagreed, sighing. Link had never been very good with emotions; it figured that he had bonded to such a complicated person, and never mind the fact that any sort of affection would no doubt get in the way of his work. “Just…” He exhaled, grinding his palm into his forehead. “Stop.”

The loneliness swelled into sorrow, an itch at the back of Link’s throat, and then abruptly vanished – no, not vanish. It became covered by a superficial, saccharine wistfulness, while the unhappiness continued to pulse underneath.

Link wondered how he’d managed that.

“Damn it,” Link murmured, and abandoned his work entirely. It was a lost cause at this point, regardless.

Link found it hard to believe that he would soul-bond to an enemy of God, but then again, soul bonds were not actually all they were made out to be. Sometimes, it didn’t work – because the two halves were unable to compromise adequately, or simply due to circumstance. Take Kanda Yuu and Alma Karma, for instance.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks wasn’t long enough to get to know someone, even if they were far more open than Walker was. And it was easy to tell that Walker was hiding something; it was unnerving to Link, no matter that he was highly trained and deadlier than any exorcist.

Still. That ache of unhappiness was all too familiar. And it wouldn’t be a bad thing, to get the suspect attached to him.

He turned around, and wasn’t all that surprised to see Walker sitting on the chair by the window, looking out, the gleam of tears glistening on his cheeks. Walker cried a lot, Link noted.

“Walker,” Link said at last, forcing his tone to come out lower and a little gentler. “Is something… wrong?”

Walker hesitated, glancing over at him, and then smiled and shrugged. Link was a little disturbed that he _could_ smile, with the emotions Link could still feel churning across the bond and one hand rising to wipe away the tears.

“Nothing,” Walker assured him. “Nothing that really matters, anyway.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “For the record, I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”

Ah, of course. Just as he could sense Walker’s loneliness, Walker could sense _his_ growing frustration.

“It isn’t as if you have any more control over this than I do,” Link said gruffly, frowning at him. “Don’t apologize for things you can’t help.”

“Even so,” Walker murmured, smile fading and eyes turning earnest. Even more unsettlingly, it was sincere; Link could feel the emotion to match the expression, skimming across the surface of the storm making up the rest of Walker’s mental state. “It must be difficult.”

Almost everything about being a CROW was difficult. It never made much difference. Link would learn.

“Would you rather speak to one of your friends?” Link asked instead of answering, voice turning a little strained. He wasn’t qualified to deal with crying teenage exorcists, he really wasn’t. “Surely Lenalee would be able to help you, or perhaps the Bookman Apprentice, or Miranda Lotto-” Allen had many friends – many people who _weren’t him –_ and…

A hint of wonder crept in, lightening the overall tone of Walker’s emotions the way the other feelings hadn’t. Link relaxed slightly, only realizing then how tense he had been, though confusion didn’t take long to assert itself. What had Link _said?_

“No, that’s okay,” Walker assured him, moving away from the window to lean against the foot of the bed, closer to Link. He was smiling again, small and light. “Thank you.”

“Hm.” Link eyed him doubtfully. He almost turned away again, more or less satisfied, but then he hesitated, and, after a moment of careful consideration, added, “This… is not what I would have chosen.”

A hush fell over Walker’s emotions, as if a damp cloth had suddenly fallen over all of them. Link didn’t let it stop him, almost hurrying through his words.

“I would have preferred to meet in better circumstances, were it possible. However, as it is not…” Link met his gaze, wary but determined. “As long as you truly have nothing to hide… I see no reason why we cannot at least try to get along.”

Walker didn’t reply, staring back at Link, visibly startled. His emotions swelled again, uncertainty clashing with hope and with warmth, sweeping away the loneliness until it was nothing but the ever-present half-shadow under it all, which was as much as Link had come to expect, anyway.

Then his eyes started to shine, his nose scrunching and brow furrowing, and-

…Walker was crying again. For the love of- Link reached into his pockets and scrabbled briefly for a handkerchief, frowning to himself, and then, on finding it, reached up and wiped roughly at Walker’s face, trying very hard not to make eye contact.

“I apologize,” he murmured, searching frantically through Walker’s emotions for anything that would explain his _unfathomable_ behavior. Dear _God,_ why was he so complicated. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Happiness and amusement bloomed from Walker to Link, and Link growled under his breath, but didn’t stop wiping the tears away until Walker reached up with his human hand and curled it around Link’s wrist, stopping him.

Link raised his gaze to Walker’s to find Walker smiling at him softly, silver eyes red-rimmed but gleaming.

“I’m okay,” Walker said quietly. “Thank you.”

Link searched his gaze for a moment, and then sighed and took the handkerchief away, folding it up and tucking it away again.

“Good,” he muttered, dropping his eyes from Walker’s. “Go to sleep, then. You’ll need to work in the morning.”


	3. Dream Sharing

Link’s soulmate died when he was fourteen years old.

He was already training to be a CROW by then, learning how to bind akuma and save people and protect his family (and, secretly, someday his soulmate too, he hoped, because God knew he needed it-)

Ultimately, then, _because_ he was in training, he knew exactly what he was seeing as soon as he dreamed of Mana’s death, of Allen at a grave, of the looming form that asked, _“Shall I resurrect him for you?”_

And he knew exactly what would happen next when Allen said, _“Please.”_

Soulmate dreams were sketchy. Inconsistent. You dreamed every night of your soulmate’s day, but they were _dreams,_ and things got lost or confused or forgotten. You got to know them, but you didn’t learn everything.

He hadn’t realized Allen had missed the explanation of how akuma came to be.

* * *

Link woke up gasping, and then he lurched up and stumbled out the door, scrabbling at the doorknob and running down the hall, not even bothering to change into day clothes.

“Madarao,” Link called, barely bothering to shut the door behind him with a thud, eyes wide and frightened. “Madarao!”

Madarao jolted and ended up rolling nearly off the bed, just barely catching himself in time to sit up and scowl at Link with tired, irritated eyes. “What?” he snapped, pushing the covers off of himself. “It’s too damn early.”

Link faltered where he stood, unsteady and swaying a little. His mind churned for a moment, struggling to put the chaos into words, and then, abruptly, he blurted out, “Madarao- Allen’s dead.”

Madarao’s eyes widened, all the sleepiness falling away. “What?”

“An akuma killed him,” Link explained, quick and fervent. “His father died, and the Earl came-”

“And he tried to bring him back,” Madarao concluded, face going grim.

“Yes,” Link agreed quickly, trying not to think about it – would he do the same, if he didn’t know better? For Madarao or Tewaku or any of his friends? “But he isn’t an akuma. His arm was Innocence – it transformed at the last moment and destroyed the skeleton before it could transform.”

“But he’s dead,” Madarao said slowly.

“…Yes.” Deep, rushing breath. “He is.”

* * *

“I’m glad to see you’re taking training even more seriously than you were before,” Tokusa said dryly, sitting by Link. “But you know it won’t change anything, right?”

Link glanced at him. “Of course,” he agreed, audibly irritated. “The dead cannot return to life.”

“I can’t believe I have to be the one to tell you this,” Tokusa huffed. “You’re running yourself into the ground, Linkle. It’s not good for you.”

“I don’t care.” Link felt childish and stubborn, but it kept the waver out of his voice and the hitch out of his breath, so stubbornness it was.

Tokusa snorted. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He stood up. “Fine, then. As long as we’re sitting around, we may as well spar.”

Link pushed himself up. “I’m going to become better than you,” he threatened, an edge of relief in his voice. Tokusa may not have much sentimentality in him, but he was a good friend, anyway.

A slight smirk curled Tokusa’s lips. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

* * *

“You finally surpassed us all,” Goushi commented mildly, arms crossed.

Link glanced up at him and nodded slowly. “Yes,” he agreed, faltering over the word. “I suppose I have. We were quite close together, anyway.” They’d all worked hard, there was no doubt about that, but Link was aware – they were _all_ well aware – that he’d taken it to a new level after Allen had died, and skyrocketed in the short time since.

He knew, from subtle reassurances and offhand comments, that the others’ soulmates were all fine – Madarao’s as hard at work as he was, Tewaku’s committing herself to study, and so on – and wondered, guiltily, if things would be different if they weren’t.

Goushi smiled slightly. “You’ve been working hard for it,” he allowed at last. “You should be proud.” He reached over to ruffle Link’s hair, ignoring the other boy’s hand batting at his impatiently. “If you keep at it, you may even become the best of all the CROW.”

“I want to be the strongest,” Link admitted, voice a little tight, the fingers of his hand lingering on Goushi’s wrist where he’d caught it. “That’s my goal, actually. Explicitly.” He didn’t say why, but he probably didn’t need to.

“Strength never meant much of anything to you before,” Goushi pointed out, but there was a note of understanding in his voice that made Link squirm even as he withdrew his hand from his grip.

Instead, though, Link just said, voice almost defiant, “We’re fighting for the world. God shouldn’t settle for anything less than the best, even if we are not his chosen.”

Goushi smiled a little more genuinely. “Just so,” he agreed.

* * *

_A boy looked at him. He was young, with unhealthy pale skin and snow white hair and a vivid scar down the right side of his face, staring with big, empty silver eyes._

_Slowly, the boy reached forward with his left hand, and another hand crept into view from outside Link’s line of sight until it met the other halfway, matching it exactly. A mirror._

_“I look like a ghost,” came a voice Link only just recognized, hoarse and horrified._

* * *

This time, Link woke up feeling like he couldn’t breathe, staring at the ceiling, feeling like the world had been swept out from under his feet.

This time, Link didn’t get up and go running. He sat up slowly, dropped his gaze to the ground, covered his face, and took a deep, careful breath.

It had been a fragment of a dream – less than five seconds altogether.

But Allen was alive. Unhealthy, hurt – he’d been quite right to say he looked like a ghost, and a starved and despairing one at that – but he was _alive._

He smiled into his hands, relief warming his body until he forgot how sore he’d been, and for a while he just stayed in place, until Tewaku finally came poking in to see what was taking him so long, half an hour later.


	4. Ink Imprint

Twelve-year-old Allen was dozing against the door, waiting for Cross to finish and hoping no one came by, when he felt the back of his right wrist heat up slightly.

He smiled, waking up a little, and reached into his pocket for the ever-present pen. He lifted his hand and glanced down at his wrist, and his smile warmed. It was Link again.

_Are you awake?_

Years ago, when the two of them had first really become aware of each other, most of their communication had been dirt drawings, mud and dust smeared across skin to form animals or food or, oddly, religious symbols. Link had learned to read and write slightly before Allen had, but Allen had only been about a year following.

Allen thumbed his pen gratefully, and then reached over and wrote carefully,

 _Yes._ And then, _Are you tired?_

Whatever Link was doing at the moment – he hadn’t told Allen, just as Allen hadn’t told him – it meant that he got up early and didn’t settle until late. Fortunately, Allen’s schedule was much the same, so they found time.

Link was much busier, though. Allen smiled ruefully to himself.

 _Yes,_ Link replied, the strokes slow and reluctant. Then, more quickly, _I’ll sleep soon. Have you eaten today?_

Allen couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading through his chest, and he didn’t want to. He curled up around his arm as if to protect it, smiling softly.

 _I did! It was really nice._ He let that sit for a moment, and then continued, _Are you hurt?_

It was a routine by now – sleep, food, injury. It wasn’t necessary, so much, but it was familiar, and it was comforting. When Allen felt lonely, this, more than anything, helped it fade.

Allen hoped he could meet Link someday. Even if his promise came first, even if both he and Link had their own separate goals that were each important to them- he wanted to meet him in person.

_I ache all over. But it’s fine. I did really well today, I think._

_Well done! Did you beat Tokusa, even?_

_Yes! But not by much. I think he was annoyed._

Allen laughed quietly. _He’s just jealous,_ he teased, and then, _Are you proud?_

There was a brief pause, and then, slowly, _Yes, I am._ Another pause while Allen smiled at the writing, relaxed and happy, and then Link continued, _I’m almost done with training. Are you?_

Allen sighed, smile disappearing briefly. _I don’t know. My master won’t tell me._

_Your master is a difficult man._

_Don’t I know it. I’m waiting for him to finish up now, actually. He’s with a woman again._

Allen covered his mouth to hide a smile Link wouldn’t have seen anyway as the pause stretched noticeably on, his soulmate apparently stunned into silence.

 _Oh,_ Link wrote at last. _Do you want me to stay up with you?_

Allen hesitated – he knew it had to be late for Link, and he’d had a long day – but after a few moments, he glanced back at the door, exhaled, and deflated slightly. Quickly, before he could change his mind, he wrote, _Will you?_

 _Of course,_ Link replied instantly, letters bordering on sloppy with their hastiness. _What did you do today?_

Allen relaxed, and in unhurried lettering, started to tell Link about his day, reading his replies as they came and letting the conversation bloom.

Link was easy to talk to – he always had been, was probably the most understanding person Allen knew. He’d been happy for Allen when Allen told him about Mana, in stilted words back when he was learning to write. He’d been understanding when Allen ranted, relieved when Allen returned- He’d even accommodated Allen’s radical change in personality, even if he’d been concerned at one time.

He knew it was silly to think it, but he thought, sometimes, that he might love Link.

* * *

Link stifled a yawn, deliberately avoiding glancing at the clock. It was getting late, very late, by now, but he was reluctant to leave Allen alone – he knew that Allen got lonely, easily and often.

He smiled faintly at the conversation still twisting up his arm – just the right, because Allen had once asked him not to write on his left, stating it was ‘hard to read’ for some reason. The conversation would have to close soon, though, unless Link went and wiped his arm clean.

He rested his cheek in his hand and watched as Allen finished what he was writing, blinking to keep the sleep out of his eyes.

_It wasn’t as bad as when I had to drag Master out of Cairo, though._

Allen travelled a lot – it made for amazing conversation, when they had time to talk at length like this, and Allen seemed to love it. Far from the times when everyone had made Allen wary, years ago, now Allen _loved_ meeting new people and learning new things – bits and pieces of languages, for example. (Much of Allen’s personality may be very different now, but his metaphorical mouth was still dirty enough at times to make Link blush.) It was a topic that never ran out, one way or another.

Link would be able to travel, too, when he finished training. They’d be able to trade stories, then.

He looked forward to it.

 _Where are you now?_ he wrote, almost on automatic now, easy and absentminded.

 _Turkey,_ Allen answered instantly. _Konya, at the moment, but I think we’re moving on in a day or two. Master seemed frustrated today._

 _What did he do?_ Link penned, frowning. He didn’t much like the sound of Cross, though over the last two years he’d become more or less sure that Cross was, in the end, trying to help. Somewhat. (Help with what, though, Allen had never been particularly specific.)

_Nothing, really. He was just short with everyone, that’s all._

Link wished, sometimes, that he knew more about Allen, but then again, Allen was distinctly a private person, even if he hadn’t implied that what he was doing now was specifically secret – and it wasn’t as if Link wasn’t just as secretive.

It was enough that he knew what Allen liked and what he did each day – a taste of life outside that helped Link remember why he was training, and helped keep him from missing it too much.

Link considered that for a moment, but before he could reply, Allen tacked something on, scribbled hastily enough to make his already bad handwriting even worse.

_Master’s done now – thank you so much, Link!_

Link smiled and replied, _Anytime. Goodnight, Allen._

There was no reply, but that was fine; he was sure that Allen was heading to bed now, and he should certainly do the same.

He set the pen aside, got up, and stretched briefly, wincing at the pull of muscles, and then he climbed into bed and fell asleep within moments, his exhaustion pulling him under instantly, only faintly registering the cool feeling of the conversation being washed away.

_Goodnight, Allen._


End file.
